


I was looking for a breath of life

by Del (goddessdel)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Breathplay, Episode: Night and the Doctor e03 First Night, F/M, Middle River POV, POV River Song, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Del
Summary: "You were late.""Technically, I was early."





	I was looking for a breath of life

**Author's Note:**

> During "First Night", where was Middle River coming from? And where was she going?
> 
> Written: 6/11/18 - 10/26/19
> 
> Title from Florence + the Machine "Breath of Life"
> 
> Thanks to Beverly and Bree for their support. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> _"River, you can't do things like that!"_  
_ "Or what? You've already had me banged up in jail for 5 years, what else are you gonna do? Spank me?"_ \- Night and the Doctor: First Night

He's late.

The Doctor ran off to get the TARDIS when it became clear that the advance hordes were successfully advancing, leaving River to hold off the entire bloody fleet of cross Sontarans.

Well, more accurately, she shoved him in the direction of the TARDIS with a wink and promise to try to leave some for him. But he's late and she's cross and she doesn't fancy accuracy in anything but her aim at the moment.

The Doctor will come, of course. He always does. Bless, he'd practically been tripping over himself to drag her away with him, brandishing his sonic right next to her gun and refusing to let go of her free hand. Still... "Any time, sweetie," River mutters under her breath, a blaster pulse singeing her arm - and probably frying her vortex manipulator - as she twists out of the way and shoots its wielder dead.

The familiar wheeze of the TARDIS sounds at her back, right on cue.

River doesn't give him time to open the doors - bless, he'll get himself shot running out to help her and then she'll have to carry him back, _again_ \- spinning inside, ready to give him an earful for cutting it so close and.... did he stop to change?

Her name is already on his lips, alarmed. "River!"

"I knew you’d come back here you nostalgic idiot." Because of course he's come back - and wearing that suit - just like their first night here. Well, if they're going to be dramatic. "Hold me!" River falls neatly into a faint, just getting a chance to savor his startled expression before she lets her eyes flutter shut and knees fold.

The Doctor catches her before she hits the floor, as he always does, hands dancing across her body with Time Lord speed as he repeats her name and assesses the marks scattering her arms, prodding gently for more serious injuries.

Wrapped up in the safety of his arms, listening to the reassuring double beat of his hearts as he carefully lowers her to the floor, River holds her breath.

It serves him right for being late. And honestly, if he can't figure out she's fine with that big Time Lord brain of his, he deserves a bit of a shock. Besides, he always gets delightfully possessive when he thinks she's almost died, like he's stealing her back from death himself.

"River? Are you okay? Talk to me! Okay, uh, breath. Breathe, come on, gotta keep breathing..."

He's already draped across her, hands doing a second - extremely thorough - lap, his face inches from hers.

If he doesn't kiss her soon, she'll have to pull him down to her and spoil her game.

"River. You are holding your breath."

River allows herself the luxury of cracking open one eye to watch him put on his stern face. The shagging is always fantastic after he wags a finger in her face. "You’re a fine one to talk about holding. How many hands do you have?"

Only there's genuine panic lingering in his eyes that tells her this isn't the Doctor she just left. River bites back a curse; this Doctor is much younger. Much, much younger, considering he hasn't had the decency to shag her against the console yet.

The realization of just where his hands are sends the Doctor bouncing up to his feet, mask quickly restored as he puts distance between them. "Get up." He retreats to the console, cross but curious. "What are you doing here? Who's shooting at you?"

And that cinches it. The Doctor she sent to fetch the TARDIS - her Doctor - would know exactly who was shooting at her. River is a bit more measured as she stands, giving him enough distance that he won't startle, but unable to resist teasing him just a bit. "Oh, just a few Sontarans. Chased me halfway across the galaxy." She pretends to consider, putting on her best naughty smirk. "I probably shouldn't have asked them if they were on a hen night."

This Doctor is still young enough that he tramps down the matching smirk, putting on his best stern face and sounding properly exasperated with her. "River, you can't do things like that!"

Oh, he doesn't know the half of it. River sways closer to him because her husband is always so much fun to fluster. "Or what? You've already had me banged up in jail for 5 years, what else are you gonna do? Spank me?"

He nearly chokes, an interested gleam in his eyes even as he tries to bite it back. "Now..."

There are many lovely ways he could finish that sentence - though he's too young for any of them - but it hardly matters because River catches sight of that green dress and is caught by the memory of the last time they were on Calderon Beta. Their wedding night, after a fashion, with a sky full of more stars than any other... But also the Doctor trying to get her to wear that dress and the nagging suspicion that he was talking to someone else - and if it had truly been her parents, wouldn't they have said hello? "Doctor, have you brought someone else here? Does _anyone_ agree to wear that dress? Where is she?"

The Doctor looks startled, probably that she still doesn't trust his fashion sense - that dress will probably have feathers or scarves or a lining of hats somewhere if she agrees to put it on. It could be made of celery for all she knows. "River, think it through..."

She has thought through the very real repercussions of letting him pick out her clothes. "This happened the last time we were here," and he's very carefully not denying that someone else is there, just like the last time. "You brought someone else!"

"No, I didn't!" His denial is exasperated and a second too late.

Rule one. River narrows her eyes, determined to see what's going on for herself, all thoughts of teasing fading with her rising irritation. Does he think she's stupid? She knows perfectly well he travels with all sorts of people all the time, but she doesn't appreciate him trying to hide someone away from her. Or avoiding having to introduce her to whomever else is on the TARDIS. Like she _embarrasses _him. "Yes you did! I heard you talking to her!"

He shouts something after her that River doesn't hear, already halfway down a hallway that she hasn't decided if she wants to lead to their room or a stiff drink. She's almost decided on that drink when she hears him speak again, quieter, as if in response to someone else.

For goodness' sake. River spins on her heel. "Were you talking to someone?!"

The Doctor looks flustered but he's alone. "No, no, dear, just me."

She softens a bit at the endearment before she can help it - they're rare when he's still so young. Right, she needs a drink.

But it happens again. As soon as she steps further into the TARDIS in search of one of her hidden bottles, there are voices in the console room again. Everything is muffled from the hallway but the Doctor is definitely not talking to himself.

He's facing the door when she returns. Clearly, someone just left. The very female someone he doesn't want to admit was on board. River glares, marching down the stairs. "Who are you talking to?!"

"You! I’m talking to you." The Doctor steps closer but he still seems out of sorts. "Back to Stormcage, Dr. Song."

He's already aiming his sonic at her vortex manipulator, hands dancing over the buttons. He's all dressed up and sending her away. He never sends her away without at least a proper kiss.

She thought he only dressed up for her.

This wasn't how she imagined their night going at all. "Oh, at least give me a lift. You know what this thing does to my hair."

The Doctor is already stepping away from her, distracted. "It’s always like that."

Before she can reply, the vortex opens up and swallows her whole.

River steps out of the vortex with a spark and a curse, hands already busy determining how completely unmanageable her hair is this time.

"It's perfect." He's leaning against the bars of her cell.

"It's the size of a small moon!" But she drops her hands immediately, giving him a careful once over. This is the Doctor she sent to fetch the TARDIS: his hair ruffled, his tweed slightly singed, and a look in his eyes that has made entire armies tremble.

It makes her tremble too, though in a far more delightful way. Especially when he licks his lips and accuses, low and full of promise, "You seem to have gotten yourself into quite a bit of trouble, River."

She can tell from the tone of his voice that he's not talking about Sontarans. River cocks one hip and counters, "And I can get myself out of it."

He considers her, and her hearts beat double time at the dark, possessive look in his eyes. "Or perhaps you were just making your own."

She shrugs, carefully nonchalant. "You were late."

"Technically, I was early." He doesn't move toward her, though she can see the tension in his body at the effort of not reaching for her; of course, he doesn't have to.

River sways toward the Doctor as she always does, immediately and completely, like a star caught in his gravity. "You're never early." The words fall automatically from her lips, her entire focus consumed in the dark of his eyes.

The second she's within his reach, he pulls her in, hands possessive as they slide with confident familiarity across her body, searching for imaginary injuries his younger self may have missed. "That was rude," he chastises her, voice low and quiet and deadly calm. "I thought you were _dying_."

"I'm fine," River breathes, a shiver running down her spine when he makes a dismissive sound at her protest.

"You've been a very bad girl today."

"You like me bad," she teases, fighting the urge to wiggle as he continues his inspection of her.

"Mmm," the sound may be agreement or disapproval. His hands slip, possessive and no longer entirely innocent. "I like you alive."

River throws her head back and laughs, delighting in provoking him when he's treading the edges of the Oncoming Storm. "Picky."

His hands clamp like her favorite irons over her arms, walking her backwards into the TARDIS.

The Doctor huffs, so close to her that the warmth of his breath ghosts across her forehead. "I do have limits, River."

He continues to steer her inexorably backwards, his pace unhurried to belie his clenched jaw and taut frame.

River laughs, daring him. "Really?" She lets her voice drip with promises and provocations. "Show me."

It's the challenge in her laughter that cracks him open; he surges forward to kiss her, stealing the reckless sound from her mouth.

River melts into him, pressing as close as she can while still caught in his grip, sliding her hands up his tweed-clad arms. She nips at his lips and opens her mouth under his when he growls, letting her tongue betray her contrition.

The second he releases her, she's in his arms, wrapping her thighs around his waist and dragging her hands unrepentantly through his hair.  
  
His hands circle her waist, his lips dancing over her skin, and she can feel a low chuckle rumbling through the Doctor's chest just before she finds herself airborne.

Grinning, River throws her arms wide, keeping her eyes fixed on the Doctor's amused smirk as she hits the soft cloud of their bed just hard enough to make her breath stutter.

The Doctor has her arms pinned to the mattress before she inhales her next breath. They're both grinning now, sharp and wicked, and River arches up against him shamelessly.

These are her favorite nights.

His hands slide across her body, dipping into the pockets of her dress, and he balances back on his knees long enough to dangle a pair of her handcuffs in front of her, a question in his eyes.

River nods, letting him stretch her arms over her head to haul her dress off and lock the metal around her wrists.

The Doctor strips her naked with effortless expertise, taking his time to rake his eyes across her exposed flesh - lingering long enough on the nearly healed shadows of scorch marks on her arms that she knows he's still confirming she's truly unharmed.

River watches him watch her, letting a smirk curl her lips, even as her hearts pound and throb. Neither of them move.

The Doctor is almost never still, never serious, never callous and cruel.

Except that he is; he's just usually better at hiding it. Others don't pay close enough attention until it's far too late.

River pays attention, and the Doctor doesn't try to hide from her.

Rarely, when they're alone - when she pushes him just so - she gets to bask in all the sharp edges of him that he softens for others.

She doesn't want him softened - she just wants him. Wants to rub her sharp edges against his and see who bleeds first.

Sometimes, he indulges her.

His hands follow the path of his eyes, curling possessively over her skin. Everywhere he sweeps those long Time Lord fingers burns with need; River bites her lip with the effort of following the unspoken rule flashing behind dark eyes: _don't move_.

Once he's satisfied, he slowly and methodically unwinds his bowtie, binding her handcuffed wrists to their headboard with the slick of silk.

He doesn't undress further, still wearing his tweed.

Which is all well and good, but... "Are you going to fuck me?"

His eyes snap to hers, his lips curling up at the edges. "Are you going to apologize?"

River laughs carelessly. "Whatever for?"

The Doctor tuts at her. "River, River, River." 

He flips her over effortlessly, his bowtie twisting with her arms. She's just turning her head to glare at him when his hand comes down hard on her arse. "You've been a naughty girl." He doesn't give her time to recover before smacking her again, just hard enough to sting in a way that makes her body tingle in anticipation. "Antagonizing Sontarans. Sending me away. Holding your breath." He punctuates each statement with a smack.

River gasps, biting her lip to stifle further needy sounds. "Just letting you play my knight in shining armor, sweetie." She doesn't tell him to stop.

"You were _just_ being reckless," his palm comes down on her arse to underscore his point as he scolds her.

_What else are you going to do? Spank me?_

A shiver traces through her as the cuff of his tweed drags, rough over sensitive skin. If she'd known a little faint was all it would take, she would've tried this years ago. "That's half the fun."

The Doctor chuckles, his palm settling into an easy pace, alternating smacks across her arse. "What's the other half?"

"_This_."

This time, it's a moan that River stifles, arching up toward his hand with each calculated hit. A renewed rush of wetness slicks between her thighs in time with the heat suffusing her arse.

"Don't move."

His reprimand is low and sharp, and the tenor of his voice makes River want to snap their headboard and wrap her legs around his waist.

Instead, she forces herself to lie still, burying her face in their pillows to stifle the entirely indecent sounds that want to escape her lips and counting strokes in her head. The Doctor is breathing heavily and she wonders how long he can keep up her punishment before he succumbs to the same need throbbing underneath her skin.

"Do you like that, my bad girl?" His voice is next to her ear, tweed scraping across her back as he squeezes one hot, sore cheek before sliding his hand between her legs to wet his fingers with her blatant desire.

River twists her head to smirk up at him, close enough that she can see her reflection, wanton, in his eyes. "Ah, so you do like me bad."

"I think," he sinks one long finger inside her, curling it with relish at her whimper, "that perhaps you like to be punished."

Her body betrays any reply she might have, her hunger unmistakable. She's the only one who gets to have him like this, who he would be _this_ for.

And oh, she does so love the way he punishes her.

He pumps his finger languidly, teasing her with light strokes that do nothing but exacerbate the need coiling at her sex. "Is that it, River? Do you want me to make you scream?"

_Fuck_. Those words on his lips leave her putty in his hand. But he wants a proper reply from her - a confirmation that she gives readily. "You always do."

He curls his hand, fingers still buried in her sex, and drives her up onto her knees.

With a gasp, River shifts to grip their headboard to support herself, tossing her hair out of her face and turning to catch his lips with hers in an urgent, biting kiss that makes him growl and slap her already stinging arse before he tears himself away.

Good, she doesn't want his restraint. She wants his handprints etched across her skin. Wants him sharp and raw, like she is. Wants to get under his skin the way he lives under hers.

His fingers slide up to rub over her clit in hard, sloppy strokes that still leave her aching and biting her lip. He spreads her legs wider, his teeth nipping their way across her shoulders, and River whimpers, rocking urgently back into him.

The sharp smack across her clit leaves her nerves tingling in pleasure-pain, a desperate moan falling unbidden from her lips.

The Doctor's nose nudges her shoulder gently, his breath warm and ragged over her skin, fingertips trailing the crease of her thigh as she recovers.

The tingling doesn't fade so much as demand satiation, and she really needs him to touch her _right now_. "_Doctor..._"

He does it again, slightly harder, enough that the sting makes her gasp before the hot rush of pleasure follows on its heels, soaking his palm.

"_Yes._"

The Doctor makes a strangled, needy sound, and then he's spreading her legs and replacing his hand with his mouth.

River jumps at the first greedy lick of his tongue against her sex, and she barely has a moment to catch her breath before he is all but devouring her, tongue sliding along her folds and circling her clit and dipping inside her.

His fingers dig into her arse as he maneuvers her to his liking, burying his face between her thighs with a possessive growl that only serves to make her legs weak.

He sucks her clit into his mouth, playing out River's moans with a twist of his tongue or graze of his teeth, until she's left gasping and writhing, caught between his hands and his mouth and the voracious, all-consuming bliss.

It's too much and not enough all at once - she's been on edge since she stepped out of the vortex and caught the dark, covetous look in his eyes. A frustrated sound that she'll deny is a whimper slips out of River's mouth, her hands white-knuckled around their headboard.

The Doctor chuckles, low and dark and delicious against her sex; it's not the sound he wants from her.

He nips at the sensitive skin at the junction of her thighs, all sharp teeth and biting pleasure, before he flattens his tongue and licks her top to bottom. While River's still catching her breath, The Doctor buries his tongue inside her, fingers digging into the bruises on her arse and his nose nudging her clit.

Her husband is far too talented with his mouth. River can feel her insides quivering with every stroke and swirl and greedy lick until she's shrieking and coming hard on his tongue while he laps her up, glutting himself with her.

It's enough to prolong her orgasm, her second chasing the heels of her first and, when she finally comes down from the dizzying heights of it, her nails have left marks in their headboard and the Doctor's grip is the only thing holding her up.

He presses a chaste kiss to one trembling thigh before ducking out from between her legs and reaching up to wrap his long fingers around her wrists, deftly undoing his bowtie with the ease of considerable practice.

But when River turns to face him, he's licking his lips with a positively filthy smirk and his hands still with hers still caught between them. "Are you going to behave?"

River matches his smirk. "What would be the fun in that?"

As soon as the silk of his bowtie slips from her wrists, she twists and shoves him hard against the bed, crawling backwards on her knees until she can balance with her hands on his chest as she straddles his thin hips.

"Sweetie, get your kit off."

The Doctor smiles lazily up at her, still licking her off his lips. His hands circle her hips, grip deceptively gentle as he conveniently ignores her command. "Can't. Busy."

And his hands are indeed busy, sliding possessively across her hips and waist and breasts.

River shudders, eyes falling shut at his expert hands on her still sensitive skin. "Kit. Off."

The Doctor chuckles, the sound low and dangerous as his hands leave her breasts to grip her tender arse instead. "You're not in charge here, River. Not tonight."

Which is exactly how she wants it, but that doesn't mean she won't challenge him anyway. "Oh, really?" River rolls her arse over his clothed erection, undoing his shirt buttons herself, her nails scraping not at all accidentally against his skin as she goes.

"River," her name sounds more like a growl as his long fingers wrap around hers, tugging her hands away from his buttons.

River laughs and stretches forward to kiss him instead, her bare nipples dragging against cotton and tweed, swirling her tongue over his lips and teeth in a way she knows makes him weak in the knees.

The Doctor growls, sitting abruptly up until River is pressed all the more delightfully against his hard cock as he kisses her with a fervor that steals her laughter and her breath entirely.

She loses herself in the kiss and him, in the taste of herself on his tongue and the way he doesn't pause to let either of them catch their breath, her hearts and lungs racing to keep up with him.

Just when she thinks that he's given into her demands, his hands close over her arse, stilling her frantic movements, before one moves to his own shirt buttons. "Patience, River. Trust me."

On any other day, she'd trust him without hesitation. She still does, but there's that nagging suspicion holding her back. "Oh? And who else was in the TARDIS?"

The Doctor sighs heavily, stilling. "River..." But her name is not an answer, so she says nothing, waiting. "I can't tell you yet." He tucks a curl behind her ear and, when she tenses, hurries to reassure her. "But I promise you have nothing to worry about. Ever."

It's her turn to sigh. "You can't promise that."

The Doctor ignores her protest. "I just did. And I keep my promises to you, River."

There's that same intensity that's been haunting them since she stepped out of the vortex. Instead of letting it go, she presses against the sharp edges of his promises. "Really? You promised to take me to see the Towers of Darillium and you haven't."

His eyes darken, something flashing across them she can't quite catch, before he corrects, "I haven't taken you _yet_."

He kisses her again, before she can ask after any spoilers, that quiet intensity flaring back to a roaring inferno of heat between them. He's trying to distract her, pressing their bodies together, her bound wrists caught between them and his hands sliding possessively, desperately across her skin.

River lets him, lets him distract her, lets him use his body instead of his words, even as he undresses agonizingly slowly, leaving River with the distinct urge to rip off his clothing with her teeth.

Perhaps she is still feeling a bit possessive as well, a bit jealous, but the way he kisses her - like she's the only thing in the universe that matters - soothes any fears.

She helps him unbutton his shirt, sliding up on her knees so he can strip off his trousers, and then she loops the chain of her handcuffs behind the Doctor's neck with a grin, pressing her bare skin against his. "Who's in charge now?"

The Doctor offers her that lazy smirk again, his eyes dark and his hands calculating as they slide across her body, heedless of the metal around his neck. "Still me."

His hands close over her hips, guiding her over his cock and pushing her down.

And River lets him, sinking onto his cock with her head thrown back and her teeth around her lip. Metal bites into her wrists like his fingers at her hips as she starts to move, a fast, hard pace that is her idea and his all at once.

His hips meet hers with reckless abandon and it's not long until they're both panting and sweating, biting back moans and curses. River is still sensitive, swollen with him, drunk with pleasure and power as her fingers claw at his shoulders.

The Doctor grunts at the chain tight around his neck, his own hands like steel around her hips, and River only has a moment to appreciate how utterly _debauched _he looks, his quaff askew against their pillows and Adam's apple bobbing against metal, before she finds herself on her back, the Doctor bearing down into her.

He ducks his head under her arms lighting quick, one hand snatching her handcuffed wrists to pin them above her head as River's breath hitches around a moan.

She arches up into him, locking her feet around his waist, and the Doctor grunts, releasing her arms to slide his hand down her body with a leisure that acts in sharp counterpoint to his hard, deep thrusts that leave her shivering in his wake.

River keeps her wrists above her head without being told, relishing the stretch and the way the Doctor's eyes keep dipping to her chest, his fringe falling into his eyes with the motion. When his hand slides along her cheek, thumb caressing her lips, she lets her tongue dart out to taste him.

The Doctor groans, driving her harder against their bed, his thrusts picking up urgency. River is already trembling on the edge, caught between too much sensation and not enough, when his hand covers her mouth and his lips brush against her ear. "River. _Hold your breath_." It's not a request.

River presses her mouth to the palm of his hand, nibbling lightly, breathing him in, and then she holds her breath.

"Good girl, just like that," the Doctor praises, low and rough as he pounds her into their bed with relentless, hard thrusts, her body trembling and clutching at him.

His hand slips down, the lightest of caresses across her neck, thumb against her jugular and between her collar bones until she can feel her pulse in his fingertips against her skin, loud and fast and delirious.

And still she holds her breath.

Just a moment, and then his hand sneaks further down to cup her breast over lungs that start to ache and burn as he tweaks her nipple in time with his thrusts, a ripple of pleasure against the fiery tide.

And still she holds her breath.

The tide crests and throbs, coalescing into scorching hot pleasure, her vision darkening at the edges and her lungs burning until the Doctor's hand finally, _finally, _slides between them, fingertips dancing across the planes of her stomach to rub hard at her clit.

River finds herself falling, supernovas exploding behind her eyelids and the Doctor's weight the only thing grounding her at all.

He follows her with a last, desperate thrust, his own moan an echo of the scream she didn't have the breath for.

They collapse together against their bed, sweaty and satiated as River tries to catch her breath, her lungs protesting the oxygen. The Doctor immediately reaches for her, his hands adroitly undoing her handcuffs and cradling her wrists as he brings them down to press tender kisses against the bruises there. He rolls them carefully, wrapping her gently in his arms to curl over his chest, fingertips etching contrite circles over her skin.

"I'm fine," River huffs, voice still raw and a bit breathless.

When she meets the Doctor's eyes, they're wide and searching. "Promise?"

She smooths the worried crease from his brow, listening to the calming beats of his hearts in sharp contrast to the still rapid drum of her own. "Promise." And then because she never knows when to stop, "Were you really that worried?"

The Doctor ducks his head away from her gaze, something in his eyes that he doesn't want her to see. He squeezes her tighter, just for a moment. "I don't think I could stand it if something happened to you," he admits, voice thick.

River presses not entirely chaste kisses from his jaw to his ear. "Lucky for you, I'm almost immortal."

He turns with a choked sound that might be a laugh, sweeping her curls back from where they've fallen in her face and catching her wayward lips in a searing kiss. Neither of them mentions the qualifier: _almost_.

"River Song, what would I do without you?"

But his voice has softened into teasing. River pretends to consider the matter. "You'd get shot."

He makes an incredulous noise, non-existent eyebrows shooting up. "You're the only one who shoots me, dear."

She can't help it if she's a bit smug about that. "You like it."

The Doctor tucks River closer against the easy warmth of his body. "Maybe just a bit."


End file.
